Thank-you to turtle dove, ddrinki4, Girlonthem00n, tedabug, Rat and my brand-new stalker Birdiee! ;)
And apologies in advance to anyone who receives over a dozen author alerts for this story at some point in the future, I've just done a spot of editing!
Croix gammée= swastika
Chapter.15.
Notre Dame Cemetery, the LeBeau family crypt...
Everything was set, everything was ready. All they needed now was for the goods to turn up. But so far they had heard nothing from Pierre's team, and not least Thierry, who had gone to persuade Tante Mattie that it would be in her best interests to help the Guild on this very...delicate of matters. Jean-Luc looked from the large hour glass behind him and then back to Lopez sat before him to his right side. Time was being cruelly lackadaisical. A man busied himself behind him at the stone alter, his Master of Ceremonies, decked in a different, more elaborate robe than the other members. But as for the details of what he was doing, LeBeau paid no mind.
This place held a lot of memories for the Monsieur, memories of all kinds. His first Guild meeting as a mere child, even then knowing it was his destiny to one day be head of what was then nothing more than a fledgling clan. He'd seen this family through thick and thin, the thin variety being plentiful of late. Those early days...those early days; the thrill of their maverick nature, trying to carve their own niche in a city defined by the Assassin's and powerful Eternals such as Candra. They'd been good, they'd been exciting, they'd been down right dangerous and he had enjoyed them like any 'young buck' would. But if he'd known then what he knew now...his youth was tainted by his betrayal even in those first days, and it was something he couldn't escape. His very first betrayal of Remy. The first of what turned out to be many. And that one, like those since, all in the name of his Guild. Nothing really changed...the boy was right when he'd said that. He really had always been a 'means to an end'. Knowing that, admitting that to himself, along with the raw, fresh imprint of the words he'd shared with Mattie recently, broke his heart. It truly did. As he thought his gaze fell upon the giant stone casket of his father, pride of place with the main room of the crypt. The ice white eyes that stared at nothing, the grim set mouth, the reproachful look...he turned away from it.
Readjusting in his lotus position, closing his mind off to such things, he lent forwards slightly, moving purposely to catch Lopez's attention. "Where are de uddahs?"
"What?"
"De uddahs," Jean-Luc repeated, "the uddah Guilds---why ain't dey here?"
Lopez smirked, tilting his upper body in LeBeau's direction, "Did you really think we would all meet here? On your patch?" he replied with a cold laugh, "Give us some credit Señor."
Jean-Luc continued to regard him darkly as Lopez turned from him and resumed his patient wait. It made sense he supposed, he certainly wouldn't have gathered all interested parties right within the lion's den either. But then again, he was not fortuitous enough to be on the gaining side, this time around. His greatest wish was for the handover to take place as soon as possible, and the thought that Remy would be safely on his way out of New Orleans the only thing to brighten his current mood. At least it kept his mind from wondering on other matters, like what the unified Guilds intended to do with their new found power...He decided it was best if he did not dwell on things he could do nothing to prevent. The odd soft murmur broke the silence and the tinkering of Claude at his back, laying things out on the black velvet cloth that draped the altar.
Then all sounds within the crypt stopped, several people where approaching the room, thundering quickly down the main steps that led down to this dank grim place of the dead. Everyone silently perked up in expectation, pulses speeding under impassive, unflinching veneers. All eyes fixed on the open doorway as the long shadows of several bodies spilled down the steps. Lopez was on the verge of standing up in reflex to his tension when confusion followed by a certain amount of ire overtook his anticipation.
"Miguel," he hissed, jumping to his feet for real this time as his elder brother and several of his Guild filed into the room, "What is it?! Has something happened?"
The small armed troop ambled to a stop half-way up the central isle, nobody around them moving, the hooded members of the native Guild barely even bothering to look up at them. Even Jean-Luc settled back, instantly releasing that this was something between the brothers and of no concern to him. He was content to watch as events unfolded.
"Maybe you could tell me, brother," he spat the last word out as he tossed the gold coin at his younger sibling.
Pedro caught it one handed, all the while his dark, crisp gaze never left his brother. He gripped the coin in the palm of his hand and turned it over, getting a feel of it. He appeared to be completely unmoved as he looked down at it, studying it for several minutes before fixing his brother once more.
"What the hell is this Miguel," he said in a sonorous tone, "Some kind of joke?"
"If it's a joke, then nobody is laughing, I assure you." He walked forwards, coming within yards of Pedro, "We want an explanation---and we want one now."
Outside...
No sooner had his body hit the floor, falling heavily into a small nest of the tall dry grasses that carpeted the cemetery, than Remy felt himself being dragged back up onto his feet by the two monkeys that had tied the thick rope around his wrists and bound his hands behind his back. They hadn't taken any particular care when they thrown him into the back of the jeep back at the shack, only giving him a moment to observe Tante Mattie being taken into an adjacent car where a still unconscious Ororo was slumped in the back, her head collapsed onto her shoulder at an odd angle. It hadn't taken then long to get here to the LeBeau crypt, just fifteen minutes or so at high speed along the winding dirt tracks that were flanked on either side by the potentially deadly swamps. One slight swerve or misjudged bend and...well, it was a good job these men knew this place like the back of their hands.
He turned to his left as he was yanked into an upright position as Thierry swiftly manoeuvred out of the passenger seat of the blue car and grabbed hold of the back passenger door as he kicked his shut with a resounding slam. "Come on chère," Remy heard him in a murmur from this distance and over the rattling sounds of others getting out of their jeeps, engines warming down with restless growls, "outta de car."
Remy tried to halt himself, digging his heal into the ground as he craned his neck as far round as it would go but there were too many cars in the way now, too many bodies milling about. He jerked his body as the men at either side of him attempted to pull him forwards, prompting a hail of dirty Cajun at him from the two that he didn't recognise. But that wasn't a surprise; he hardly knew any of the members of his former crew now. That did mean they didn't know him and the tails of his dishonour---it was enough for them to have formulated their opinions of him in stone. He managed to hold them from taking him into the crypt for one more moment, enough for him to get a glimpse of a still limp Ororo being dragged arms first out from the other side of the car that Mattie had now gotten out of.
His anger didn't have much chance to spark as a smarting blow reigned down from his left side, one of several he'd received on the way down there for every smirk and smart-arsed quip. But this one, right on his temple, was forceful enough to have him seeing stars. Ever the stoic, Remy laughed it off, "Dat de bes' you got, homme?" he grinned drunkenly at his assailant, white, red and yellow flashes exploding in his vision, causing him to try and blink them away.
"Why don' you jus' zip it," the mousey haired young man sneered, adding for good measure, in muttered insult, as if not quite having the guts to say it allowed, "fuckin' freak o' nature."
"V'ry original---I wuz jus' wonderin'," Remy began, as if about to ask a genuine question, "where's yaw 'croix gammée', mutha-fucker," he finished, taunting snidely, quickly preparing himself for another punch that he would gladly have taken. But he was saved from such action by an unlikely source.
"Now, now boys, if I can't leave you three t' play nice." Thierry came up on the right side of the trio as they headed down onto the crypt, equally as taunting, his irreverence irking, especially to Remy. He laughed, cruelly, at the expression on Gambit's face, one of pure antipathy.
"You'll git what's comin' t' you one day Thierry," Remy seethed, unable to help himself.
"Is dat a promise?" the blonde haired man replied with feigned amiability.
"I stake mah life on it," he replied with a determined and bitter air, all the while struggling to keep his feet flat on the ground and walking, as the men, no boys, at either side of him rushed Remy deeper into the crypt.
Thierry looked straight ahead with the most serious aspect, as he said, in all honesty, "Dat's not much of a wager den."
The multitude of Mauvais' men and women marched dutifully behind this most 'congenial' of quartets, with Mattie flanked by two well-built Thieves and Ororo just behind her. She was being carried hammock-style, her consciousness coming back only in the form of sleepy groans and random yet somehow purposeful twitches.
Down, deeper down they went at an excited speed. Remy tried, and failed several times to get a look back at Storm, but every time he turned his head it was rudely pushed back to face the front.
Take yaw time Remy, jus' take yaw time---you still holdin' all de aces homme...
They came to the yawning opening at the end of the passageway, the one that pitched down into the indeterminable darkness of mortal eternity. Remy recognised it, he'd been here on many an occasion, though not for several years hence...But there was no blanket gloom, instead a soft light rose up from the depths, splintering up like the new days sun-rays. And as they came upon it, the exchange of angry voices was apparent.
"Ooh, be soundin' like someone's havin' a 'lover's tiff', non?" Remy goaded.
Thierry scowled down at his grinning nemesis, but said not a word. Indeed, the heated exchange sounding less than promising by the second. The group headed down the stairs.
Finally Jean-Luc got up from the ground, deciding the argument had escalated far enough. And he certainly was not impressed by what he'd heard so far---if even a fraction of it were true...It didn't bear thinking about. Walking swiftly over to the pair of bickering siblings who were by now pontificating quickly deep into their primary tongue, LeBeau shouted, "One of you 'as got exactly five seconds t' tell me what de fuck is goin' on here!"
It took a few moments for the two men to react to Jean-Luc's bellowing voice, the heated exchanges coming to a stuttering stop, hands stopped pontificating in their own wild gestures and the physical fight that seemed inevitable was held off. For now...
"So," his dangerously dark eyes flicked from one man to the other, whose own menacing stares never faltered from each other, "What---is---goin'--- on?" Seconds with all the unbearable density of the air passed, San Diego Thieves stood behind Miguel poised tense, their weapons itching at their sides, but with an air of uncertainty about them. They didn't know which way was up or which was down.
Jean-Luc opened his mouth, about to speak, when the approaching group announced their presence. All in the room temporarily forgot the stand-off, looking to the steep steps. But LeBeau's internal relief was short lived when he saw who was directly behind Thierry as he entered the room first with his usual assured composure.
"What's dis homme?" Mauvais didn't miss a beat as he addressed Jean-Luc but had a steady finger pointed at the standing group in the centre of the isle. He moved off around them, continuing towards his leader.
But Jean-Luc ignored his question; his darkening eyes fixed on Remy as he was frog-marched quite succinctly into the crypt, followed quickly by Mattie.
"What de hell is 'e doin' here?!" Jean-Luc roared uncharacteristically; even a flicker of surprise flittered across Thierry's face, but only the briefest.
"Dere was a...problem," he told Jean-Luc diplomatically, glancing behind at the X-Man who'd been brought up to a stop just behind him.
Jean-Luc had his furious gaze fixed obsessively on his son the entire time; the still wet smear of crimson glistening down the front of his face from his nose all the way down to his chin. Remy returned the gaze, completely impassive---a dark coldness that sent a chill through his father. Even him, a man who had seen more horrors than he cared to recall...
"Dey mus' o' taken out Pierre's team," Thierry continued by way of explanation but not evincing an ounce of defence or justification, "we were at Mattie's---dey turned up," he stated. He turned to Remy, adding with a quiet callousness, "Jus' like we knew dey would."
LeBeau senior regarded the two men for a moment, the unspeakable antipathy that surrounded them perceivable. He fixed Remy, although he remained glued in a battle of wills with Mauvais, "Is dat true?"
His father's voice resounded in his mind but he felt himself paralysed for a time, paralysed by hatred. His own capacity for it scared him at times... "We were set up," he growled deeply before slowly transferring his hateful ebony and red eyes over to Jean-Luc.
"What de fuck d'you mean garçon?" Jean-Luc returned in a similar tone, "All I wanna know is if you an' yaw crony took out LeEnorme an 'is team?"
"Oui," Remy replied quickly.
His mind flittered somewhere between confusion and utter fury at a deep down instant realisation, "Why?" he asked regardless.
"Who cares?!?" A thunderous and irritated voice cut in. It took Jean-Luc a second or more to register that it was Pedro; the rest of the room and the other fractures had somehow fallen away. "Did he bring it?"
"Yah, we did," Thierry answered as he motioned automatically with his hand for someone to pass him the bag. A quick skittering of feet in the tensely silent room and then the satchel was there, its sure weight in his grasp.
All eyes in the room where now on the bag. That simple bag that contained so much... One could have heard a pin drop, not event the air stirred with the movement of breath. Even the agitated Miguel was subdued into a semblance of calm...for now. For what seemed to be one painfully prolonged step at a time Lopez began to make his way over to Thierry, running a tentative tongue over his dry bottom lip. After an age he was face to face with Mauvais, practically quivering with anticipation at this most suddenly informal of handovers. It was as if they were merely passing something completely inconsequential; the hum-drum lot of a thief's average swag.
"I wouldn' do dat if I were you, homme."
The deep drawl was alien in the quiet of the atmosphere, dozens of heads turned to Remy; his face stony and unreadable but with red irises that fumed bright.
"Why?" Jean-Luc asked suspiciously as he moved unerringly past Lopez and Mauvais to face up to his son.
"Remy's seen wit' his own eyes what dat t'ing can do," he said gravely, with an unusual amount of sincerity, "an it ain't pretty."
Jean-Luc regarded his son for a moment, shifting his weight as he folded his arms over his chest, his uniform creaking loudly, "An' what it dat...exactly?" He raised a slightly sceptical eyebrow, still mad and confused at why he'd felt the need to run from LeEnorme and go to the extreme of 'wiping-out' the entire unit. What game was he playing? And again that nagging distrust that lurked but never truly surfaced began to rear its ugly head...It was difficult for him to trust anyone fully, even family.
"Trust me on dis one," Remy said as if reading that familiar look in his father's dark eyes; one that he had seen more times than he cared to remember. "You don' want 'im," he nodded in a sharp jerk over to Lopez, "or anyone else t' use dat t'ing."
"What the hell is he talking about?!" Lopez spat contemptuously, his eagerness to get his hands on those ancient secrets, that awesome power beginning to overwhelm him; he struggled abortively to contain it. "Give it to me!" He just about resisted making a grab for it from Thierry's grip...
"He is right."
A new voice entered the fray; somewhat groggy but still with its tell-tale dulcet power. Again, all eyes turned, trigger-fingers became even itchier, and tempers were starting to fray on all sides; the tension impenetrable, the taste thick. Ororo finally managed to keep her head up this time, after several failed attempts to rouse herself. Everything still held a blurred edge for a moment as she tried to focus; the blinding throb at the base of her skull making it difficult to concentrate or hold onto anything for long. She didn't recognise where she was, the subdued lighting bouncing off stone walls was entirely unfamiliar to her but the one thing she could tell was that where ever it was, it was underground. The atmosphere was too compressed for it to be otherwise; the pressure weighted down on her as if she were underwater. It was an eerily familiar feeling...She looked up at the sea of hard staring faces, like finding her way through dark tree trunks, searching through for only one. She found him quickly; bloodied and bruised, but mercifully in tact. She caught the vague softening of his features as he locked with her drowsy gaze from across the room..."It is dangerous," she continued, "we have already witnessed the destruction it can lay in its wake."
Thierry snorted, thoroughly unimpressed, "So you say," he cast a dirty look at both of them before turning to address Jean-Luc, "it wouldn' surprise me if de t'ree o' dem were in it together," he threw a look towards Mattie, "maybe dey know someone else wit' an interest in dis, non?"
Remy let out a sarcastic laugh at the suggestion but didn't bother to rebuke something so ludicrous; the idea didn't dignify a reply. It seemed that Jean-Luc thought on similar lines for he simply gave Mauvais a dismissive look and no more.
"What ever is going on between you and him," Lopez piped up, sensing the definite air of stalling as he jabbed an angry finger from Remy to Jean-Luc and the bulk of the New Orleans clan, "is of no consequence. Everybody is aware of the deal here---you hand it over and your clan is absolved, your loyalty proven."
"Loyalty my ass!" Thierry spat at him; he'd had enough of the charade, his silence on the matter had been kept for too long..."We wonna know what dis is really about Lopez---we ain't content t' be played no longer."
"Thierry---."
"No, he is right!" Miguel finally rediscovered his voice, never having lost his ire. "I think we'd all like to know what is going on here...what traitors we have in our midst." Things were rapidly escalating into anarchy...
"Why don't you let me answer that?"...
And in no more than the blink of an eye there was a gun shot; one powerful shot that had Miguel Velasquez Lopez falling to his knees, clutching at the side of his neck in a vain attempt to stop the massive loss of blood as it spilled like a fountain over his hand, joining him on the floor as he flopped face down onto the stone isle. Perhaps it was just shock but nobody seemed to move for a long while, transfixed by the sight of the young dark eyed girl; her hands still clutched around the gun pointing straight out, her features expressionless.
"Jacqueline?!" Pedro gasped in confusion; a barrage of thoughts ran over him, the foremost being one of appreciation; her allegiance proved in his eyes, but still, Miguel was his brother... Why?!?!
"No," she smirked, turning her weapon onto him, "Not Jacqueline."
Remy caught the change in the girl's eyes before anyone else, recognising its significance immediately as burning sapphire overtook the sultry brown with acidic potency..."MYSTIQUE!" he raged; stirring Ororo instantly as the only other person there to realise the true threat...
With all of their training none of them, save for the two X-Men, could have been prepared for what would transpire. Assassins, yes; they had encountered them all, but none such as they were about to face now. She took out the men at either side of Lopez first of all; two clean shots to the centre of the head. It was only then that offensive action was ordered against her, in which time she literally revealed her true colours...Her exposed face and hands reverted to their natural deep blue; a Prussian tone as she leapt high into the air to avoid the barrage of bullets directed at her. Coming down she swift-kicked the thief to her left of her, right in the midriff. Of which clan she hailed, she did not know and did not care; her sights were set on one thing. Thierry tried to be ready for her but she was simply too quick...
Remy debated with himself, just like he had all those years ago; do I use them or non? It would only take the merest charge to break his binds, but after so long without his abilities...he couldn't be sure whether he could wield them with the skill that he once did....those nerves there, just like they were the first time...
But for Storm there was no such hesitation. She shook off the last of her dizziness and freeing herself of her two captors was, in truth, no real problem; as soon as the white sparks began to surround her and her eyes became lightening orbs, they were none to keen to keep a hold on her anyway. The summoning of a wind took everyone by surprise, especially the San Diego contingent, as it swept through the crypt, knocking several of them backwards; caught up in their robes or robbed them of their weapons.
All of this distraction though gave Thierry and company chance to make for the exit, along with the most precious of prizes; Lopez having momentarily forgotten about the importance of why he was here, personal preservation taken precedence. It was only when he saw the thing he had mistaken for Jacqueline making her way towards them as they made off with the cargo that he was roused into the offensive. He pulled the gun secured to his hip, thumbing back the trigger quickly and with ease but struggled to focus on his target with her unnaturally agile movement and the artificial wind that blew against him, making him purse his eyes to the barest of slits. He tried his hardest to take aim...
Having fully regained her faculties, Ororo was the last hope between the retreating Thierry and the advancing Mystique as she sprinted towards him, dodging the random hail of bullets that sped towards her from those not pole-axed by Storm's wind or taken out by the mutant assassin herself. The X-Man picked up speed as she darted headlong, the thieves passing by her in their escape, destined for a certain collision with her genetic kin. Both women leapt into the air, leading with their feet. Storm hit first; connecting with Darkholme's left hip and sending her spinning. But her inbuilt acrobatics allowed her to roll with the hit; landing on all fours on the ground. Her gun went skittering off along the ground, but it was of no consequence as she bolted forwards at Ororo, drawing out her trusty blade from her inside breast pocket as she went, preparing for their tête-à- tête.
"It's been a long time X-Man!"
"Not nearly long enough!" Ororo countered dryly as she made to parry the blow flying towards her by knocking Raven's forearm to the side but she simply wasn't quick enough, the fatigue of her earlier injury taking those crucial few seconds away from her...Darkholme was on top of her game still and not only did she avoid Storm's blow but managed to catch her with her viciously serrated blade, slicing into her exposed upper-arm with ease. The weather witch gritted her teeth to stop the cry of pain that threatened, not willing to give her heartless opponent the satisfaction as she fell back against the side of one of the tall stone coffins, holding her arm as it bled profusely...
It was time...now, it was time....
Remy could feel his entire body shake; nerves, fear, anger, the excursion? He did not know and he was rapidly losing the capacity to care; it had angered him enough to see Mattie cowered behind a tomb to avoid the dangerously haphazard gun fire, all of which missed the ever cunning Mystique and ended in comrades. And now Ororo rendered hopeless, trying to stop the bleed; had the knife caught an artery? There seemed so much blood...He gave the fire free reign, the men that still held tight to him even amid the chaos, frightened, green, did not notice until the last possible moment. A bright magenta glowed behind him, almost enveloping his entire body with its sprightly glow. He had to concentrate...it had been such a long time and it was only now that he truly believed...They were back...The pain, the thrill the intense heat...
"Jésus!"
The boy to his left let go of Remy's arm as he noticed, at last, the crackling hands of Gambit; the power they had been told was lost was there, plain for all to see, dangerous as any weapon they possessed...The younger of the two finally noticed the latest development; reeling away just in time before the restraints that had so successfully bound Remy's arms gave in to the kinetic energy imputed into them, the atoms they consisted of vibrating until they could vibrate no more and simply had to release the latent force. With a tremendous bang, the like of which rarely accompanied his more controlled explosions, the restraints flew out, disintegrating into nothing as they went, but not before catching his two guards with their hot remnants; a shower of scolding shrapnel causing them to hold their faces part in protection and part in agony at the places they had failed to cover in time.
Remy ignored the burn marks left on his own skin from the action, reminded of the times he'd felt it before and able to block the pain it caused as if it had triggered his old safe-guards. His only focus now was Mystique, as she continued in her one-woman ambush of Thierry and those that had rallied to protect him and the Carcoccia; his father amongst them. He knew they stood no chance against her, for all of their skill...He searched quickly with his perceptive eye for something, anything that he could charge as he ran towards the steps where the battle for possession was taking place. It was amazing to see so many experienced 'soldiers' out-matched by this one woman; thief after thief mowed down by her concentration and physical skill as well as with her expertly wielded knife that left many of them with at least serious injury, if not worse...Finally his eye fell upon a litter of spent cartridges from the perfunctory fire of the San Diego clan. He stooped down, collecting a hand full as he advanced; his refreshed powers immediately firing them up with the usual colour.
"Hey!" he hollered above the shouts and vocal bedlam, "Bitch!"
At the familiar voice Raven turned, just in time to see the hail of charged cartridges flying towards her with at least or perhaps more lethal potential than they imbued originally. She spun out of the way, pirouetting expertly to dodge most of Remy's arsenal, but one or two did catch...only lodging themselves in the protective body armour she wore. When they exploded they left nothing more than black dints in the hardwearing material. It may have only been a distraction in the end but it was enough for Thierry and co to make their escape up the passage way and out of the confining space of the tomb.
Pedro and his cronies, what was left of them after Mystique's devastation, were not far behind, though they hadn't managed to exit before the mutant herself had gone off in hot pursuit of them. Remy ran too, not content to leave it up to them to overcome her but he was stopped in his own concern as he passed Mattie, still crouched between the space at the side of a great 'sarcophagus' and the wall.
"You okay, girl?" he asked anxiously, crouching quickly at her side. She simply nodded frantically though her eyes remained wide with shock and her voice having deserted her; though nothing less was expected under the circumstances. But Remy didn't have time or occasion to dwell, he'd just have to hope that she could hold up until he could return to her. He didn't want to leave her down here, surrounded by the dead and dying but he had little choice. He had to get to Mystique; the Guild having the Carcoccia was bad enough, the thought that that scheming, nefarious menace had an interest in possessing it was somehow far worse...The shouts and gunfire continued all along the passageway out of the crypt, he had to get out there...
"Remy," a weary voice called from behind him, "we must stop her!"
Gambit turned with surprise to see Ororo making her way as fast as she could towards the exit but her balance was off; the effects of loss of blood no doubt as the crimson still coursed from her arm with worrying persistence, coating her skin and soaking her clothes a darker black.
"You ain't goin' nowhere petite!" he warned darkly as he grabbed her as gently as he could, setting her down to the floor...his mind was divided as the battle continued, the sounds fading for a moment but the concern not.
"Remy, I have to help," she insisted, her words becoming slightly slurred as she collapsed back against the steps, "they don't stand a chance against her."
"I know dat, chèrie," he said gravely, "bu' needuh do you like dis---you lost a lotta blood." He prized her hand away from her arm, wincing angrily at the deep weeping gash beneath. He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched tensely; he couldn't conceive of the damage he wanted to inflict on that woman for this... the revelation that she'd somehow been involved in this all along at once making things all the more confusing and the consequences all the more devastating. But that wasn't the only revelation of astonishment to come to light today...
"How long have you known?" Ororo asked between slow pants, her eyelids to heavy to keep open...
"Since de boat," Remy mumbled quickly as he ripped a piece off the bottom of Ororo's t-shirt and made a tourniquet with it around her arm, as tight as he could.
"Why didn't you tell me," she said quietly as she prized her eyes open, looking him dead on.
He avoided her gaze for a moment, tucking the last piece of material into the makeshift bandage, "It don' madduh," he said matter-of-factly, before wrapping his hand around the back of her head and pressing his lips to hers, hard and true, "I gotta go---don' you move from here, mon brave. I'll be back." He didn't give her chance to argue as he raced up the steps, praying he wasn't too late...
...but he was. Was it possible that one woman could have caused so much destruction? When it came to this particular one, Remy knew only too well the harm she could cause and in truth it surprised him not one jot to see the ground littered with the dead of both clans. Those left were jumping into the jeeps that were dotted about; the spat up dust of a hasty departure still clung to the stunted air.
"What 'appened?" Remy called as he spotted Jean-Luc climbing into one of the jeeps, with obvious difficulty. It was only when he came up right close to the vehicle that he noticed the indication of a wound, coming through just beneath his breast plate at the bottom of his ribs. "She get you bad?"
"Non," he said shortly as he struggled to intake a breath, indicating the complete lie.
"Poppa---!"
"I'm fine damn it!" he snapped as he sunk back into the passenger seat, "Get movin'!" he ordered with equal terseness to the thief beside him who swiftly revved the sporty jeep up, prompting Remy to leap onto its side holding tightly to the framework as it sped off.
"How she get it?" he asked above the roar of the engine and the whoosh of the wind flying by as their speed rose, rose and rose...
Jean-Luc shook his head, his face looking frightfully ashen and drawn, breaking out into a thick sweat... "It were like dere were ten o' her," he shook his head again in disbelief, remembrance of what he'd seen as she had broken through the barrier of defence like they were nothing...his most experienced men. He would have lost Thierry too if it hadn't have been quick thinking on his part; he rolled back his neck with the snapped up kick which otherwise would have broken several of his vertebrae, "Dere weren't nuhddin we could do..." he lamented, wincing half in pain, half at reliving the sight of her whipping the exposed bag with two quick slices of the thick straps, then taking the lead in this jeep pursuit across the swamp land...
Ororo got up on the steps, her legs a little wobbly but at least the worst of the bleeding had stopped. She had to get out there, no matter what. She had to stop Mystique; the single-minded determination of being an X-leader overcame her...She got outside just as the last jeep sped off into the cloud of dust left as the physical mark of the others. Concentrating hard, for there was no natural wind present for her to draw on, the weather witch created her vital gust from scratch, lifting off to follow the racing line of vehicles that were soon in her sights from above...
She gripped the wheel one-handed as she pulled out a bundle of paraphernalia. The black cloth wrapped bungle was set out onto the passenger seat as the all important satchel sat close on her lap; the final pay-off from weeks of careful covert planning. But things weren't over yet, the last coup-de-grâce was to be had...Flipping open the carefully tucked in corners the thick cloth rolled out, revealing several untarnished bits of metal. Her focused eyes flitted from the road to the things beside her, occasionally chancing a look in the rear view mirror as she sped over the bumpy terrain. But she'd well and truly got on the jump on them, they were at least a quarter of a mile lagging. Enough time for her to prepare what needed to be done.
Picking up the thickest of the cylindrical metal tubes she gripped it between her knees upright as she began to concentrate on fitting three of the other smaller pieces together to make a kind of cap shaped object, topped by a small dome of clear red plastic. Quickly she slotted the cap onto the top of the length between her knees with a satisfying click. It was primed and ready, it just better work as well as they said it would, she thought with a rare admittance of doubt...She glanced at the rear-view mirror again, noting that they'd caught up somewhat, but they weren't quite close enough for her liking...they needed to be closer, get a real good look at the 'floor-show'...The speed dial flickered dramatically in spasm as Darkholme slowly released her hard press on the gas peddle and the eager chasers drew nearer. She could just see Lopez in the passenger seat of the jeep leading the pack, edging himself up above the black bars of the roof, cocking his gun as he went. She smirked at the sight with all her arrogance, quickly shifting her gaze to the vehicle just behind that one; an anonymous driver and the man she thought she would have finished off with that cynically aimed stab. Perhaps she hadn't reached Jean-Luc's liver after all, never mind...But her face quickly caught in a sneer as she saw the figure next to him, hanging from the side of the jeep, his feet on the side step, trench coat billowing behind him.
"LeBeau," she ground out, the name bristling with loathing. One day she would do what he never had the guts to, back in that hospital bed...At least she would glean some personal satisfaction from this job; the familiar aspect, along with the disproportionately overblown pay-cheque, the main attraction when the file was handed to her in a back-street café on the newly fashionable west-side of Helsinki, close to two months ago...
The jeep roared up a narrow stretch of dry dirt path, lined by tall wispy trees on one side and the fume-laden thickness of the swamp surface on the other; lit only by the white glow cast down by the burning brilliance of the moon....Lopez took the first shot...it cracked the wind-screen into a crystalline spiders web, sprawling over the glass surface, with just the smallest perfect hole to indicate where the bullet had passed through. Her lip curled into a wicked smile as the fiery tendrils of her red air fluttered back and forth in direct complement to her skin, but that was the only reaction that evinced on her features that the shot had come anywhere near her. Years of experience made one blasé to such occurrences. A hail of them span around her next, hitting the seats with muffled bangs, ricocheting off the vehicles sides and back with jumping sparks, though in places the bullets pierced the black panels as if they were the flimsiest of aluminium cans. Raven soon realised it was now or never...She pressed down hard on the top of the small contraption she'd fitted together, making the clear red plastic on top begin to blink with light, flashing its warning sign in calm regular beats...She grasped the box close to her...
Remy tried his hardest to keep his focus on what Mystique was up to, noticing even from that distance how she was busying herself with something beneath the pale moon light. But what, he could not tell. He couldn't concentrate fully; dividing his attention between her and his injured father. Jean-Luc still had his hand tucked beneath his breast-plate, though he remained stoic on the outside, Remy's sharp eye didn't miss the flickers of pain that darted with the barest passing. And then it occurred to him...he had never before seen his father in pain, the strangeness of seeing this monolith in his life as vulnerable as any other was distinctly unsettling. He wanted to say something, but found any and all words frozen. He pulled his eyes away, focused their dark anger ahead of him, on her. That anger, buried deep within travelled down to his hands, the portals of his gift, and the raw energy fizzed until it became entirely visible...He needed something, again anything would do---he had to see if he still had the touch, the accuracy of all those years of honed practice; at Xavier's and the dark years before...Yet still, the doubt nagged at him, his fear of control or lack thereof. He'd reacted on gut instinct, when all was said and done, back in the crypt after he'd overcome it. But the more he thought on it, the insecurity grew and he became once more fearful of using a power that he hadn't for almost a year until moments ago. He had no idea how that thing had brought it back, but all he was sure of, and had been for the last week, was that he'd never felt the energy with such unapologetic, menacing or savage ferocity. He felt himself that fourteen your old boy again, the one with a monster growing inside him he neither understood, could control, nor wanted---feared letting it out. The marks on his wrists that now throbbed from the flame were a reminder that he lacked his former mastery. But he had to do something; the power ached for release still...
Holding tight to the metal bar as the jeep bumped with recklessness across the rough surface of the perilously skinny path, Remy reached down and gripped at the top buckle of his boots, yanking one off with a forceful pull. It instantly began to glow with that gentle coloured kinetic energy that belied its potential havoc; small enough to travel fast at this distance, big enough to clip the wheel with enough ability to destabilise her jeep. The charge was an extra bonus. Jean-Luc looked up at his son from under sagged tired lids but said nothing; he had come to expect the unexpected as far as his adoptive off-spring was concerned.
As he prepared to throw it with his customary precision, the transparent dark of the swamp thick night seemed to darken with a suffocating inkiness, blotting out the twinkling diamonds set there and dulling the Luna orb into eventual obscurity. Remy and the rest spared a look at the sky, with only Gambit's mouth setting into a wry grin as a peel of thunder rumbled as if it were a calling card. Equal parts worry and admiration ran through the Cajun as he saw the Goddess, his Goddess, high above him, sailing her jet- streams to uncanny perfection; a type of worry that was at once familiar through his years of protective feeling, but now, had a new edge. It was an edge that frightened him and thrilled him...The wind seemed to blow from all directions, bringing with it just an adventitious spit of rain...
He tore his gaze away, back to the matter at hand. He had to throw it---it was now or never...but everything seemed to happen so fast it was surreal...There was a break in the rapid fire; a brief respite in the mindless reaction of thugs. Remy took it as his opportunity to bring a little purposeful action. He threw the hot buckle; watched it as it whizzed bright and hardy through the night sky, skimming the earth just barely on its decent as it hit the back wheel of Mystique's vehicle.
Was it before or after?...that was a fact he would debate and agonise over...
The jeep wobbled quickly as the ruddy explosion went off but it appeared to be on that course before Remy's fatal intervention. Whatever the circumstance, it was not long before the car made the catastrophic swerve and pitched into a rock cluster that lined the bend in the narrow swamp path. All breaths caught in throats, hearts were held in mouths at the conclusion as the jeep flipped up into the air in a mist of light dust and with such speed that it was impossible to see anything for its true worth. It would have seemed a simple crash were it not for what came next...
With an eerie dumbness, a blinding light spread from the vehicle as it flipped several times toward a certain fate in the depths of the swamps. It was only afterwards that those present registered the sonic boom that flowed out in waves along with the light of the blast rippling over them; a light of creative force and decimation....all within its grasp....destruction feared and expected with gritted teeth and tight shut eyes...
They all shielded themselves from it with that gut-inept response. Cars skidded to an undignified and indiscriminate stop. The call of gun fire halted, the angry clouds rolled back...It was only then that they dared to watch as they took arms away from their faces to witness the last of Mystique's jeep being swallowed with thick, distilled gulps. What it meant, none present could comprehend...they simply stared as they arrived to the scene, hypnotised, in disbelief...
-TBC-
A/N; Well I didn't manage it! I was really hoping to have given Remy his powers back before the comics did but I guess I ran out of time! I haven't read X-treme since the infamous kiss (and those great panels on the ranch ;)) so I don't have much idea what had been going on there in the final issues.
There's still much to come with this story (just to give you all a heads up!), so stay tuned and feedback would be loved and much appreciated, thanks, M'iko, xx